GAH

Stupid is:

1. Missing an initial evaluation for physical therapy.
2. Thinking that evaluation was in July, not June.
3. Calling in July to check on the date and time for said evaluation, only to be informed that it was supposed to be a month ago.
4. Making a new appointment for said evaluation, then finding out the prescription for it needs to be renewed.
5. Calling primary care physician to get prescription renewed.
6. Finding out primary care physician is on vacation for two weeks.
7. Putting the office assistants through several hours of searching files, fax records, and computer notes for the original prescription in order to have the on-call doctor renew it.
8. Not being able to pull that together before the rescheduled evaluation today.
9. Missing said evaluation for the second time.
10. Receiving a call from the physical therapy office informing me that the reason my primary care office couldn't find the original prescription is because it came from my rheumatologist.
11. Oh, and the prescription wasn't necessary for the evaluation, only for any physical therapy following the evaluation.
12. Now needing to call my rheumatologist to renew the prescription in order to schedule a physical therapy evaluation for the THIRD time.

Point One. Knowing that the prescription wasn't necessary for today's appointment would have been helpful BEFORE missing the appointment because I was under the impression that I needed the prescription in order to have insurance cover the evaluation.

Point Two. Fibro Fog. It's not just for breakfast, kiddies. You can enjoy Fibro Fog all day long!

fashion tips for the wheelchair aficionado

No No's

• Long skirts. Your carefree gauzy maxi dress that comes down to your ankles and beyond, creating length and an aesthetically pleasing silhouette even while sitting down, won't look so carefree when it tangles around the wheels of your wheelchair.
• Ditto wide-legged pants.
• Short skirts. That flirty above-the-knee skirt that demonstrates a daring and fun-filled personality will demonstrate FAR more when you're in a wheelchair.
• Form-fitting button-up shirts. This primarily applies to the more busty among us, and only if you're wheeling yourself. The motion of reaching back over and over to propel the wheels tempts the Button Gods (specifically the subsects known as the Thread Gods and Gap Gods) far too much.

Fashion Do's

• Tea-length skirts and capris that hit mid-calf. Likewise tailored pants and longer shorts. Take advantage of that length of leg between knee and ankle. You'll avoid the embarrassment of your bare skin sticking to your wheelchair in hot weather and the pitfalls of wrapping your clothing around your front wheels.
• Double-layered skirts, such as EcoQuette or Enwrapture Vintage, where you can tuck the bottom layer down to avoid a Marilyn Monroe moment but still preserve the look of a skirt with the top layer.
• Fabulous shoes. This is where wheelchair accessorizing can get really fun. Those high heels and platform shoes that hurt like hell after 20 minutes on your feet? The ones that pose a real risk of injury? The flimsy shoes with the gorgeous beading that won't stand up to more than a block of walking? Go for it. You're sitting down. Rock the shoes and have a blast.
• Layered shirts. You don't have the advantage of a full-length silhouette when stuck in a wheelchair. Create a sense of length in the torso by layering shirts and playing with hem and neck shape.

Any more tips from the trenches? Let me know!

the wheelchair training manual for parents

Those innocuous little ramps I used to jog up are damn steep when you're propelling your entire body weight plus 20-odd pounds of wheelchair up them.

The shiny metal rail is lovely for keeping your hands clean, as opposed to propelling yourself using the wheel itself. However, that shiny metal rail gets very slippery in the rain.

A five-year-old pushing a wheelchair can get you over small door sills and bumps in the sidewalk. A six-year-old pushing a wheelchair can send you out in the street in front of a semi lickety split.

In a group containing three or more children, it's best to have a timeshare plan arranged ahead of time for who gets to push the wheelchair when.

Foot rests are nice and all, but when your wheelchair decides to start drifting to the left with every push on the rail, it's really handy to have your feet available to correct your course.

Bicycle-type pegs on the back of a wheelchair would be awesome for carrying small children who don't want to walk any more.

Broke a fingernail on my wheelchair. Damn.

eureka

The youngest spawnling asked for walkie-talkies for his birthday. And he got them. Fourfold. Of course, this necessitated the big kids (aka the parents) to play with them test them out. And then it struck me. We've been struggling with a couple minor issues stemming from my disability. One being our intent to convey to the spawnlings that it is rude to shout to a person from the other end of the house rather than walking to them and speaking in a normal tone of voice. Of course, I shout across the house to them ALL. THE. TIME. If I got up every time I needed to talk to them, I'd be permanently crippled, and then I'd be right back to shouting across the house to them anyway. I'm pretty sure our neighbors think I'm an obnoxious loudmouth who always screams at the kids. (Hey, pipe down there in the peanut galley. It's not that funny.)

Anyway. In testing them, we figured out that their range extends over every part of our property and a good ways up the street as well. WIN! We're going to go through an ungodly number of batteries this summer, but I now have a way to reach the kids without making myself hoarse and they have a chance to break the bad habit that their parent has modeled so diligently for them over the past three and a half years.

It's the little solutions that make such a big difference in the quality of a day.

stepping outside the painted lines

Cheating circa 1990: Having two ice cream sundaes after dinner.

Cheating circa 2011: Taking the wrist splint off a week early.

Rocking it on the wild side, baby!

(Yes, you may laugh at me too.)

you're fired

Dear saleslady,

You rocked it today, giving me a hand with road-testing the wheelchair and making pleasant conversation -- right up until you asked me what was wrong with me. It's so nice to know that a friend of yours had fibromyalgia and that she cured herself through sheer willpower because, you know, she's a "feisty lady." Gee, if I'd only known that the Power of Positive Thinking[tm] is all it takes to cure this beast invading my brain, spinal cord, fascia, nerves, muscles, and organs, well hell, I'd have been dancing in the streets years ago!

I could give you my moment of sheer rage. I could give you my feeling of inferiority for not being able to just will myself to health by being THAT KEWL. I could give you my resentment of your uninformed snap judgments and smug confidence based on genetic luck of the draw. But you'd have to try a lot harder to earn those. Sorry lady, your opinion just isn't worth that much.

You get this and that's it. These five minutes of posting time. Oh, and a big pair of hairy donkey balls. Go suck on 'em.

Sincerely,
Chronic Pain Wizard